Up High in the Trees (6 page)

Cass keeps talking and it's hard to hear the TV, so I stand closer. I don't like this part in the church with the nuns who have big heads. I go up to the VCR and push the arrow button to fast-forward.

Emma's baby laughs at nothing. She's sitting down on the floor with her soft blocks.

We're going out back to see the bees, Cass says. You'll be okay in here.

The movie is at the part where the captain calls the kids with his whistle and then they all line up in a row. The kids look so nice together in their matching clothes. I think about how if I could be in the Von Trapp family I'd stand in Brigitta's place, between Marta and Kurt.

Howareyou, I think the baby says to the TV.

What? I ask, but she ignores me.

She puts a block in her mouth and chews on it.

You're weird, I tell her.

She looks at me and the block falls out of her mouth. I watch her crawl over to the glass doors and then I follow. She puts her hand on the glass.

Outside, a tiny black bird lands on the deck and holds still like a statue. I knock on the glass door to make it fly away. The bird flaps its wings and looks at me sideways with one eye. We stare at each other.

It's okay, I say to the baby. I grab her under the arms and
pull her back, away from the bird. Then I pick her up. She's warm and heavy. I hold her tight and take big, slow steps down the hall to the back of the house. I have to find the door to the backyard. The baby wiggles and I tell her to stop.

I hold her with just one arm so I can pull open the screen door and then turn the doorknob. I do it fast and the baby slips down my side a little bit. The screen door bangs shut behind us.

There's a path that goes straight out and then down a hill. I can't see where it ends.

Cass! I yell. I hold still and wait for her to answer, but it's quiet. In the sky, the moon is thin like a tiny cloud and not glowing yet. Soon, it will be night.

I try to walk, but the path is gravelly and I don't have my shoes and socks on. Tiny rocks stick in my feet and hurt. I have to go slow. The baby wiggles and kicks and starts to cry. She's too heavy. I sit down with her on the dusty path. Her crying is so loud.

You be quiet, I tell her. I try to pick the pieces of gravel out of my heels and then I'm crying, too. I think it's the baby's fault.

She keeps crying loud. The wind blows the dust up all around us and it sticks to her wet, red cheeks. I feel bad for her.

I'm sorry, I say and I hold her hand.

Sebastian! Cass's voice shouts. She looks like a tiny X all the way down the path. Cass and Emma run to us.

Are you okay? Cass asks me.

I nod. Cass is breathing hard. Her hair is all messy from the wind. She picks me up. Emma is holding the baby and wiping her dirty face.

What happened? Cass asks. Her voice is fast and scared.

I tell her there was a mean bird staring at me and the baby. I thought something bad was going to happen.

A bird! Emma yells. Did you try to carry her out here?

Emma's looking at me. I don't say anything. I put my head on Cass's shoulder.

He didn't know, Cass says. He thought he was doing the right thing.

I used to wake up in the middle of the night and wait for Mother to come and put me in my old stroller. I used to wake up and sometimes I heard her go without me.

I wasn't with her when she got hit by the car. There was a baby in her stomach and the baby died, too.

Now I wake up in the quiet and the first thing I know is that Mother's not here. I wake up and it scares me. Mother's dead, I tell myself.

I'm wearing clothes from yesterday. Next to me in the bed, Cass is breathing long, slow breaths. The room is gray-dark and shadowy.

Cass, I say, but not loud enough to wake her up. I poke her shoulder and she doesn't move.

Cass, I whisper. I try poking her shoulder harder, but nothing happens.

I close my eyes. I know what to do. I just have to keep my eyes closed until I fall back to sleep again. I take long, slow breaths like Cass.

The next time I wake up, the room is sunny. Cass will wake up soon and we'll go. I'm not scared now. I just have to wait. There's a tree shadow on the wall. I watch how the shadow branches move in the wind.

I think of the “Bobby McGee” song and I can hear it in my head. The best part is the
La da da da da
part. It sounds kind of happy and sad and I know she's thinking about secret things she can't say, because I asked Mother and that's what she told me. “Bobby McGee” used to be my favorite song with Cass. In the backseat of the green car, we listened to it on my orange and blue Fisher-Price tape player. I pushed
REWIND
and played it again and again. Cass sang all the words with me. We were
driving to see Grandmother Bernie, because she was lonely in her big house. Mother and Dad were sitting in the front seat, listening to talking on the radio. Leo was leaning forward, trying to hear the news.

Sebby, Cass says. She rolls onto her back. Hi, she says.

Hi, I tell her.

Cass is quiet and still again. Then she sits up. Her clothes are wrinkly.

Is it time to go? I ask her.

Soon, she says.

Cass walks over to the big egg-shaped mirror by the door. She stands close and stares at her sleepy face. She touches the sharp bones under her cheeks and then moves her hand away. Her eyes look too big and the freckles on the tops of her cheeks are darker in the mirror.

I'll say bye to Emma, Cass says. You get ready to go.

I sit on the end of the bed and swing my legs. I watch them and it's like they're moving all by themselves. In my head I count because counting is better than waiting.

Okay, Cass says, let's go. She's standing in the hallway.

I stop my legs and slide down off the bed. At the front door, we sit down to put on our shoes. Mine feel hard and stiff from getting so cold.

I follow Cass out to the car.

Why do you always have to walk behind me? she asks.

I don't really know why. I take fast steps and try to walk next to her.

Dad's waiting for us in the kitchen. He's sitting with his elbows on the table. Between his elbows, there's his black coffee mug with steam twisting up. I walk over to him. Dad grabs me and holds me against his loud chest. I put my hand over his heart and feel it beating. Dad stands up with me. He walks in circles around the table.

Goddamn it, he says. He sets me down and looks at me with his hands on my shoulders and then he hugs me too hard.

Mother used to put her hand on my forehead and say, My son, you're going to live for a very long time—I can feel all of the life inside of you.

I closed my eyes and I could feel it, too. I could feel my chest getting warmer and warmer and that was the life inside of me.

In the morning, Dad asks me if I want to go to school. I can stay home with him since he's not going to his office today. In his office, Dad's writing a book about music.

Okay, I say, I'll stay.

Dad's hair is messy. He's wearing his pajamas, a xgreen T-shirt that says
KISS ME I'M IRISH
, and gray sweatpants.

Hop on, Dad says. He gives me a piggyback ride down to the kitchen.

I sit at the table and watch him make eggs.

Your teacher called, he tells me. Dad doesn't turn around. He keeps cooking the eggs.

I stare at his back.

Do you have a note for me? he asks.

I tore it up, I say. I say the words fast to make them go away.

Dad still doesn't turn around.

Well, he says, I made you an eye appointment this afternoon because your teacher thinks you might need glasses.

Dad turns off the stove, but the eggs keep sizzling. He tips them out of the pan and onto my plate. Now the eggs are quiet.

I need a haircut, I say.

Dad rubs his face with his big hands and sits down at the table with me.

You want Denise to cut your hair? Dad asks.

I look at him. He takes a sip of his coffee.

Yes, I say. Denise always cuts my hair. Can we go right now? I ask.

Whenever you're ready, Dad says.

I don't want to eat my eggs, so I run upstairs. Cass's door is still closed. I want to knock and make her wake up, but if I do, then she'll stop being nice, so I run past her door and down the hall to my room. I can lay out clean clothes by myself. I pick out jeans and my light blue sweatshirt that has the mean grizzly bear on the back. I set clean underwear and socks on top of the pile. Then I'm ready to get dressed.

My jeans feel cold when I pull them on. I have to rub my legs to make them warmer. I hear Cass's door open. She walks by and then comes back.

What're you doing? Cass asks. She holds on to the wall and leans into my room.

Nothing, I say. I'm not going to school, I tell her, and I feel happy to say it. I run past Cass, down the stairs, to Dad.

Dad's lying facedown on the floor. His music is turned down low. I sit on Dad's back like he's a flat horse.

What's this music called? I ask him.

Vivaldi, Dad says. He pushes himself up on his hands and knees.